


this time it's for galleons

by jennycaakes



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Bets & Wagers, M/M, Miscommunication, Quidditch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 12:11:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8248351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennycaakes/pseuds/jennycaakes
Summary: Clarke bets Miller that she can kiss more people by the next Quidditch match than he can. Monty doesn't like being part of a bet. Hogwarts AU, Miller x Monty





	

**Author's Note:**

> been working on this for a while - I hope you like it!!
> 
> ps - pls don't get on my case about the gritty details of the Harry Potter world. some things are probably not correct! here is my blanket apology for all of that. just roll with it!! x

Miller scoffed loudly, shaking his head at Clarke who had propped her chin up in her hands across the table from him. “I’m not doing that, Griffin,” he muttered. But she didn’t relent in her stare, watching him with her cool blue eyes as though waiting for him to cave. But this was ridiculous, and he wouldn’t. “I’m _not doing that_ ,” he said again.

“Scared you’ll lose?” she challenged.

“You wish.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Clarke went on. “I’m so sick of watching you mope, for Salazar’s sake, Miller. This’ll be fun. Remember when we used to have fun?” she asked.

Without hesitation Miller answered, “No.” Clarke scoffed then, and Miller smirked. “I’m fine,” he said pointedly. “I don’t need… _this_.”

Clarke scoffed again, like the two of them were some sort of scoff off, trying to out-scoff the other.

“You’ve been a piece of shit ever since Bryan broke up with you,” she clarified. “Not _fine_. And it’s my business—” she added when he made a face of protest, “because I’m Quidditch captain, and you’re our Keeper, and if we lose against Gryffindor because you’re having _feelings_ then so help me I will hex you so hard that your dead ancestors will feel it.”

Miller rolled his eyes so hard his head hurt before turning to Raven who was in the seat beside Clarke, her Ravenclaw tie loose around her neck. “What’s your role in this?” he asked her.

“I’m the scorekeeper,” Raven answered.

It was like this.

Every time they kissed another person, they would get a certain amount of points. Because Clarke and Miller were in Slytherin, Gryffindor kisses (their rivals, obviously) were worth five points. Ravenclaws were worth three points considering Raven was the scorekeeper and she wanted them to have _some_ value over anyone else. Hufflepuffs were worth two points, and other Slytherins were only worth one.

Whoever had the most points by the next Quidditch game was the winner.

“Once the competition is on, repeat kisses don’t count,” Raven told them again after explaining the rules. They could kiss someone they’d kissed before the competition started, but multiple times during it weren’t going to be worth anything. “And I know you’re both Slytherin assholes, but don’t _lie_ , yeah?”

“We should’ve gotten Wells to draw up a magical contract,” Clarke said thoughtfully, tapping her finger to her chin. “He’s good at advanced magic.”

Miller rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to lie,” he said. “There won’t be any _need_ ,” he added with a sneer. Both Raven and Clarke rolled their eyes.

Bryan had broken up with Miller a few weeks ago, and Miller supposed that Clarke was right. His game was off. He was a topnotch Keeper. But the thought of playing against Bryan in the Gryffindor match next month was making him uncharacteristically nervous. He was missing tosses and zagging the wrong way and letting points get earned. It was bad. He wasn’t sure that this competition with Clarke was going to help, but it certainly wasn’t going to hurt.

“Ready?” Clarke asked, extending her hand.

Miller shook it firmly. “You’re going down,” he said.

* * *

“I need you to kiss me,” Miller said, dropping into the seat across from Bellamy in the library. He watched in amusement as Bellamy’s eyebrows crept up his forehead before even bothering to look up from his textbook.

“Been there, done that,” he answered.

“Yeah, well this time it’s for galleons,” Miller responded. “So I’m going to need a take two.”

Bellamy tipped his head back in a laugh. “Alright, I’ll bite,” he told his friend. “What’ve you gotten yourself into now?” Miller explained the bet he had going with Clarke, something she started in an attempt to get him out of his _apparent_ slump. “I guess that’s thoughtful of her?” Bellamy suggested with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “How are you? With all of that?”

“Well Griffin’s going in the fucking trash can, is all I’ve got to say.”

Bellamy snorted. “I meant with Bryan.”

Truthfully, he and Bryan hadn’t been together all that long. A couple of months. And it was mostly Miller’s fault that it ended, considering he was absolute shit at talking about his feelings. Also the whole Gryffindor/Slytherin rivalry didn’t really help that much. But it still hurt.

It had always been different with Bellamy. It might have just been because Bellamy didn’t let houses get in the way of who he made his friends, but the fact that Bellamy was in Gryffindor and Miller was in Slytherin had never been an issue. They still got some strange looks when they sat together, like now, but nothing that would ever even let Miller think about cutting Bellamy out of his life.

“Been better,” Miller admitted. “Been worse.” Bellamy nodded kindly. “I’ll feel a lot better when we crush your asses at the next match.”

Bellamy snorted again. “I’m all for you getting out of your slump,” Bellamy said, unknowingly tugging on the Gryffindor tie around his neck, “but I can _not_ support you on this mission.”

“Understood. So you gonna make out with me or not?”

* * *

Getting people to kiss Miller was easier than he thought it would be.

To be fair, a lot of them were friends. Miller’s pureblood status gave him networks throughout the school, so he had friends in all of the houses that he got quick smooches from. Afterwards he’d go to Raven, tell her the name for her to write down, and watch as his tallies added up. Miller had eight points before the end of the first day (Bellamy – 5, Wells – 2, and Murphy – 1). Clarke was furious.

It was fun. Definitely enough to keep him distracted.

* * *

Monty Green was off limits.

There was a list of reasons Miller decided this from the get-go.

  1. Monty Green was friends with Raven. Which meant he might already know about the bet anyway. And if he didn’t, he probably would. So, like, yeah. Drama was unnecessary. Miller liked _hearing_ about drama, and maybe even telling other people about the gossip, but not really being in the center of it.  
  

  2. Monty Green was Miller’s partner in potions class. Miller wasn’t sure if that was just one of Professor Anya’s rules that houses had to intermingle during her class (considering Roma was in Slytherin and also in potions and Miller definitely wouldn’t have minded working with her) or something that Hogwarts recently instated, but whatever. They were going to be spending a lot of time together. For sixth year they had to study a potion (Wiggenweld, Monty and Miller had been assigned) and write a disgustingly long research paper on it before turning in a completed brew of it at the end of the month. And kissing him would make things difficult.  
  

  3. Monty Green was cute. And not the kind of cute that made Miller go _aw_ , but the kind of cute that had Miller’s hands fumbling as he passed the kid the necessary ingredients. The kind of cute where Monty would smile and Miller would forget that he’d ever even dated Bryan. The kind of cute that scared the fuck out of Miller. Miller _seriously_ wasn’t good at handling emotions.



“I think it’s a little ridiculous we’re supposed to de-fang the Chizpurfle’s ourselves,” Monty said, hunched over their work station with tweezers in one hand and a dead Chizpurfle (which had grown in size thanks to a handy spell) in the other. “Don’t you?”

“A little?” Miller challenged. “Try, incredibly.”

Monty laughed despite the fact that it wasn’t funny.

Yes, Monty Green was definitely off limits.

* * *

Monty Green was endeared. By Nathan Miller, of all people.

To be honest, Monty Green had spent a lot of his time at Hogwarts kind of scared of Miller. It wasn’t Miller’s fault, not entirely. Jasper had spun a lot of scary stories about Slytherin’s and Monty was a first year when he ran into Miller alone in the hallway.

Miller had been tall for his age and he was a pureblood, whereas Monty was only a half-blood, so he had natural wizard grace oozing out of him while Monty was still a little too small for his robes.

Monty was trying to find his way back to Ravenclaw Tower late one night (Jasper had dared him to sneak into the kitchens and get them some pudding while they were studying in the library together and Monty may or may not have gotten lost) when he turned a corner and walked smackdab into Miller.

Monty hadn’t known him at the time, didn’t realize they were in the same year. He’d thought that Miller _had_ to have been at least a year older.

But Miller had stopped, righted Monty by placing his hands carefully on Monty’s shoulders, and asked, “You lost?”

Monty noticed his green and silver tie before anything else, and then immediately noticed the smirk, and Monty was terrified in five seconds flat.

“No,” Monty squeaked. And then, demanding his voice to not shake so much, he said, “I don’t need help from people like you.”

The smirk slipped from Miller’s face immediately. Miller stood a little taller. “What do you mean people like me?” he challenged. He watched Monty’s eyes flicker to his tie, Monty couldn’t _help_ himself, and then Miller scoffed. “You’ve got a problem with Slytherins?” he asked. “Sorry, I thought that bias died during the last Wizarding War.”

Monty hugged himself and tried to make himself tall. “Everyone knows what Slytherins are like,” Monty said.

Miller took a step back. “I thought Ravenclaws were supposed to be smart,” the boy sneered. Monty’s eyes flickered away for a moment. “Careful out there, kid,” Miller said, his voice dropping a little. “Poltergeists roam these halls. If Peeves finds you…” he trailed off, and Monty felt his eyes widen. “ _BOO!_ ”

Monty nearly jumped out of his skin, and then Miller was walking away from him and laughing to himself, shaking his head in Monty’s direction.

So, yeah, being afraid of Miller was sort of Monty’s own fault. The only real access he had to anything Hogwarts related while growing up was Jasper (Monty’s dad had been the wizard in his family, his mom was a Muggle, but he’d passed while Monty was just a kid) and Jasper had _sworn_ that anyone in Slytherin was evil.

Monty learned in time that the boy he’d met in the hall was Nathan Miller, son of David Miller, a pureblood Auror who had a lot of sway in the Wizarding World. And he wasn’t someone who liked to be disturbed.

So Monty kept away from him.

It was potions class that forced them back together. Monty wondered if Miller even _remembered_ that incident in the hallway during their first year. He never made any hint that he did. But Monty couldn’t forget it.

Regardless, Miller was endearing.

He was so exact in everything he did, especially regarding potions, that Monty couldn’t stop himself from smiling. That classic smirk from all those years ago was still around too, Miller smirked any time Murphy said something stupid from across the classroom. There was a surprising amount of sass with Miller too, mostly mumbled under his breath so Professor Anya wouldn’t hear, but Monty caught himself swinging his hand over his mouth to stop himself from laughing in response.

 _Endearing_. It was the only word Monty could put to him.

Until, well.

Okay. Monty had a crush.

It wasn’t—Monty knew that he liked boys. He’d known for a long time that he liked boys. He’d also known for a long time that he liked girls. The difference was that Monty had _dated_ girls. He’d kissed girls and held their hands and all of the things that happen when you’re dating a girl.

But honestly, he hadn’t ever dated a boy. He hadn’t kissed a boy. He hadn’t held a boy’s hand (unless he counted Jasper—which he didn’t). He hadn’t had a real, substantial crush on a boy either (just brief moments of falling in love with strangers, mostly in Hogsmeade where everyone was so good looking and so unattainable). So when Monty sat in the library across from Miller who was gnawing on his bottom lip as he read the text Professor Anya had assigned, studying that little dip between Miller’s eyebrows as he frowned, and realized he had a _crush_ on him. Well, that was new.

It wasn’t just the way that Miller was grumpily reading the text that swayed Monty toward Full Crush Mode. But rather the fact that Miller was wearing his Quidditch practice gear (Monty had a thing for Quidditch players, alright?) and had a smidge of dirt on his cheek from practice (how did it even _get_ there?) and was generally just a little sweaty. And good looking.

Like, okay, Miller had always been good looking. With the eyelashes and the scruff and the general athletic physique. But wearing Quidditch gear? And sweaty? Crush confirmed.

“What position are you?” Monty asked suddenly.

Miller didn’t look up from the text. “Huh.”

“Quidditch,” Monty clarified. It took another moment but Miller eventually looked up, his hand extending the page to hold his place. “You’re on Slytherin’s team, yeah?”

“Keeper.”

 _He’s a Keeper_ , Monty thought. Because of course the universe wanted to toy with him and all of the stupid puns that could be made with this information.

“I don’t play,” Monty said. Miller smirked, the corner of his mouth curling upwards as though he already knew this. “I like to watch, though.”

Miller licked his lips. “Scared of heights?” Miller wondered.

“Not really all that good with the hand-eye coordination, thing, actually.”

Miller’s smirk stretched into a smile as he looked back down at the text. “Shame,” he said.

Crush confirmed to the highest degree.

* * *

So, naturally, he told his best friend.

“I have a crush,” Monty said. Jasper’s entire face lit up and he sat a little straighter to give his friend his full attention and waited for a name. “I’m not telling you who,” Monty said as Jasper sat up. “Just that I have one.”

“Oh come _on_ ,” Jasper groaned. He nearly collapsed on the table. They were in one of the various empty classrooms scattered around Hogwarts, studying for an Astronomy exam that would be coming up. Even though they didn’t have the class at the same time, they always managed to get a lot of work done together. “You can’t tell me you like someone and then _not tell me who_. That’s like, rude to the nth degree.”

Monty marked his star chart. “You’ll judge me.”

“I’m _always_ judging you!” Jasper’s hands flew in the air. “That’s what best friends _do_!”

“But this is the bad kind of judging,” Monty said. “The kind where like, you’ll try and hex me to clear my head.”

Jasper scoffed. “It’s not like you’re in love with a Slytherin or something,” he said. Monty gave a full body wince. “Oh— _Godric_ , Monty! You’re in love with a Slytherin!” Monty dropped his head down into his hands—knocking over the ink for his quill—and scrubbed at his face with a groan. “You’re spilling all over the place!” Jasper fumbled for his wand to stop Monty’s mess and Monty continued to groan. “You’ve got to give me a name now,” Jasper said once he’d salvaged Monty’s ink.

“No I don’t.”

“Yes you _do_.”

Monty peeked between his fingers to look at his friend. “You’re biased,” Monty said. “Because you’re in Gryffindor. So you automatically assume all Slytherins are the worst.”

“They _are_ the worst,” Jasper huffed.

“And he’s really not—”

“Stop,” Jasper cut him off. Monty was sort of depending on Jasper to be an airhead, like he typically was during things like this, not catch on so damn quick. “ _He_ ,” Jasper repeated. Monty nodded. “Dude! This is _huge_!”

“It’s not huge,” Monty said with a sigh. “He’s just a—”

Jasper’s known almost as long as Monty has that Monty’s into both guys and girls, which means he also knows Monty’s never really had a thing for a guy before. “It’s a significant step in your life,” Jasper cut Monty off. “Who’s the guy? I’m so into this.”

“Why are you like this?” Monty wondered, but mostly to himself. “Minutes ago you were cursing Slytherin and all their people.”

“Oh, crap,” Jasper frowned. “Forgot about that. Yeah, Slytherin dudes suck ass.”

“You suck ass!” Monty returned, but there’s a laugh in his voice. “Jasper, I like the guy, okay? His house is irrelevant.” Jasper tipped his head to the side as though he didn’t believe it. “Don’t make me hex you,” Monty teased.

“Your Slytherin boyfriend is more likely to hex me than you are.”

“Not my boyfriend,” Monty said quickly. “And not true!” He stood at once, brandishing his wand. “Fight me, Jordan!”

A grin spread on Jasper’s face. “Any day, Green!” And then, “Oh, crap. Your last name’s Green and you’re into a Slytherin? Your life has been foreshadowing this moment.”

“ _Cantis_ ,” Monty cast, watching as Jasper dashed out of the way. “You suck,” he told his friend with a laugh.

“ _Ventus_ ,” Jasper cast back, causing a wind to whip around the room so brilliantly that Monty’s robes flew open and his inkwell fell over again. “Tell me about the boy!”

“ _Langlock!_ ”

“What in Godric’s name is going on here?” Professor Kane walked into the classroom with his wand at the ready. Jasper’s tongue was affixed to the roof of his mouth, thanks to Monty’s jinx. But they were both grinning. “Why is it always you two?” Kane murmured.

“We’re behaving,” Monty said.

Kane waved his wand toward Monty’s spilling ink. “Evidently.” And then with a huff. “Detention, tomorrow. Look for your slips.”

They didn’t even try and protest, they’d been doing this for so long they’ve just learned to accept it. Monty waved his wand at Jasper to undo the jinx.

“I’m not telling you,” Monty said as they settled back down.

“I’ll figure it out,” Jasper said back with a grin.

* * *

Monty was late for the library the next day, and Miller had already had a pretty long day as it was. He was prepared to be annoyed. But when Monty showed up, suds in his hair and a silly smile on his face, that annoyance was gone in an instant. Miller looked down at his book to stop himself from staring.

“You’re late,” Miller said.

“Detention,” Monty answered. “Kane had us in the kitchen helping out the house elves. I don’t think I’ve done that many dishes in my life.” He plops into the seat across from Miller with a sigh. “Sorry. How can I make it up to you?”

 _Don’t be so fucking cute_ , Miller thought. Instead he said, “Let’s just get to work.” Monty nodded, and away they went.

Once they’d copied down all the information they could find in their one textbook, Miller climbed out of his seat murmuring something about finding the next book that Professor Anya had recommended them. Miller was down an aisle by himself for all of five minutes before Monty appeared.

“Lost?” Monty asked.

“I just can’t _find_ it,” Miller muttered, scanning the aisle another time. Monty frowned and strode past him, his eyes working quickly over the spines of the books. “Oh, go ahead,” Miller said, holding up his hands. “Put me in my place, Green. Find it in seconds.” Monty smirked, glancing over his shoulder before turning back to the bookshelf. As expected, he found it in second, and Miller nearly groaned. “You’re kidding.”

“Don’t worry,” Monty said as he passed him. “I checked this book out the other day. Took me forever to find.”

“Don’t try and make me feel better,” Miller muttered as they returned to their seats. “Why’d you check this out anyway?”

“Head start on work?”

“You’re disgusting.” Monty took the seat beside Miller this time, leaning toward him with an eyebrow arched. “ _What_?” Miller huffed.

“You okay?” Monty asked. “You seem tense.”

“I had a long day,” Miller answered.

“What happened?” The question hung in the air. Miller wasn’t sure where to start. “Miller?”

Miller let out a long breath. “My ex,” he finally answered. “It’s—stupid,” Miller muttered. “I mean, we’re still friends. It’s just weird to see Roma with someone else.”

Monty’s voice is unnaturally high as he asked, “Roma?”

“Ex-girlfriend,” Miller answered. “It’s not a big deal,” Miller told him, really trying to not make himself sound like a pining ex. Like, when Bryan moved on and found another boyfriend (a Gryffindor, because it was always easier to keep things in-House) Miller dealt with it. It stung (still does), but he moved on. Roma, there was no sting there. Not really. In fact, he and Roma were still friends. “It’s just weird seeing people you used to be with move on, you know?”

Especially when you’re still single. And Miller was painfully single.

Monty was quiet for a moment. “I thought you…” he started. But then he stopped. Miller glanced up from the text. “Didn’t you date someone else?” Monty asked.

Miller arched an eyebrow. “You want my dating history, Green?”

The color seemed to return to Monty’s face. It was like he was getting his footing again. “Can’t be all that long, can it?”

Miller scoffed, and Monty smiled, and Miller wanted to add Monty to that short list of people he'd dated. 

“Well it depends,” Miller said. “Are we talking about dating, dating? Or hooking up?”

“Ah, I knew it,” Monty said, leaning away slightly. “You’re a Keeper on the field but you like to mess around, don’t you?”

Miller scoffed again, but it sounded more like a laugh. “You’ve been waiting weeks to make a joke like that. Haven’t you?”

Monty grinned. “Guilty.” He held his hands up. “But I mean, if the shoe fits.” Monty quickly added, “That’s from a muggle fairytale. My bad.”

“I’ve heard of Cinderella, Monty,” Miller said. He didn’t grow up with it, because he was a Pureblood, but he loved Muggle Studies. Especially the fairytale unit. “And the shoe doesn’t fit. I don’t _mess around_.”

“Sure, sure,” Monty hummed.

“Are you muggle born?” Miller asked.

Monty paused, arching an eyebrow. “Are you changing the subject?” he responded.

“No, no. I just realized I don’t know.”

“Does it matter?” Monty asked again.

“Not at all,” Miller said. “Just curious.”

Monty’s eyes darted down to the text. “Half-blood,” he answered. “Dad was a wizard but he passed. My mother, she's a muggle. Didn’t know much about the Wizarding World, you know. Jasper was kind of my, uh, insight. To everything. He lived down the street.”

“That explains a lot,” Miller said. Like why Monty was scared half to death that very first year when he ran into Miller alone in the hallway. “Jasper,” Miller elaborated quickly. “Not about your dad. I’m sorry.”

“It was a while ago,” Monty said, waving his hand. “But thanks. And now I’m convinced you’re avoiding my question.”

“You asked me a question?”

“About your dating history,” Monty reminded him with a smile.

“And you care so much…?”

“Because we’re friends,” Monty said.

Miller knew that was true. He just wondered when it had happened. Miller wasn’t very good at making friends. The people he associated with every day were people that he’d known forever. He and Murphy were in the same room in their House. Clarke and Wells were both Purebloods whose parents ran in the same circle as Miller’s. Bellamy had been in the only open seat on the Hogwarts Express when Wells and Clarke started bickering their first year about what House they wanted to be sorted into and Miller wanted to get away from them.

There were a few exceptions. Raven, for example. Or Bryan, when they’d been friends. But Monty was a new friend, and Miller was thankful.

To hide the embarrassment that came with this realization, Miller answered his question. “Bellamy and I’ve kissed a few times,” Miller told him. “Wells and Clarke too, because we were all kids and were figuring ourselves out. But I didn’t have… they weren’t relationships.” Monty listened intently, nodding along as he spoke. “I guess I’ve really only dated Roma and Bryan,” Miller said. “They were the big two.”

“That’s it?” Monty asked, and there was surprise in his voice. “I thought you were a hotter commodity than that.”

Miller was about to say _no_ , _that’s not it_. Miller had kissed dozens of people, especially in light of the stupid bet that he and Clarke were in the middle of. But he stopped. Because what would Monty think? That Miller was in the middle of a bet to get the most kisses? It was ridiculous and maybe even cheap.

“More like a lukewarm commodity,” he said instead.

Monty’s eyes drifted down to Miller’s lips, and everything in Miller’s world went still. “You don’t give yourself enough credit,” Monty told him.

* * *

“Well it’s not John Murphy,” Jasper said as they walked through the halls, toward the Great Lake. “Because he’s literally horrible. And I can’t see it being Dax…”

Jasper wouldn't give up. He wouldn't stop quizzing Monty about who he had a crush on, and it was horrible. It was horrible! Monty was practically begging him to give up.

But Monty knew he wouldn’t. And today gave Monty more hope than any one boy should have. So he said, “It’s Nathan Miller.”

Jasper froze. “Nathan Miller?” he echoed. Like he was testing the name for possible Death Eater-ness. Jasper looked at Monty before squinting. “I can see it.” Monty was stunned into silence. Jasper was not a fan of _anyone_ from Slytherin, there was no way he was just going to let this drop. “You’re working with him on that potions project,” Jasper said, “right? That’s how you know him?” Monty nodded, still kind of stunned. “Bellamy’s friends with him,” Jasper said.

“You aren’t friends with Bellamy,” Monty pointed out.

“Not _directly_ ,” Jasper said. “But he’s Head Boy. And I get in trouble a lot. And he grins before he punishes me for experiments gone awry.” Jasper nudged Monty. “He’s got good judgement, is all.”

“Okay,” Monty huffed. “So you trust Bellamy’s assessment but not mine?”

“Your assessment is blinded by lust,” Jasper said. Monty couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “I…” Jasper trailed off before looking at his friend. “I hope it works out, Monty. Seriously.”

Monty smiled at his friend. Jasper was good at heart, he knew that. It was why he was a Gryffindor, despite it all. He really did want the best for his friends. “Me too,” Monty said.

“Just—be careful, okay?” Monty nodded again. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” Jasper said. “And Slytherin’s are known for being heartless.” Before Monty could scold him on yet another Slytherin stereotype, Jasper continued on. “I could slip a love potion in his drink or something.”

Monty shook his head with a smile. “I have an idea,” he told him.

* * *

Miller settled down into the seat beside Raven as he entered the library, knowing that Monty wouldn’t be there for at least another hour. She looked up from her work with an arched eyebrow before looking back down.  He waited for to speak and she waited for him to speak, but Miller could be silent forever and Raven knew that. So thankfully she broke it first.

“You have a name for me?” she asked.

Miller arched an eyebrow. “No,” he told her. In fact, Miller hadn’t kissed anyone new in a while now. Raven arched an eyebrow in response. “Should I?”

“I don’t know,” she answered. “Clarke’s catching up.” Raven dug through her bag before pulling out the rolled parchment, stretching it out so Miller could see. “Okay, maybe not,” she changed her mind. “You’re like, fifteen points ahead of her.” Miller smirked. And he hesitated. Because something inside of him didn’t want to have to give Raven another name. But another part of him knew that Griffin had to go down. It was complicated. Feelings were complicated. “Well if it’s not for a name then why are you here?” Raven asked.

“My apologies,” Miller said, holding up his hands. “Didn’t realize I wasn’t allowed to sit next to the astounding Raven Reyes without an invitation.”

Raven rolled her eyes fondly before shoving the parchment back into her bag. “Always a pleasure, Miller.” They did their work quietly for a few minutes, Miller focused on Muggle Studies and Raven working on Care for Magical Creatures, when Raven straightened up suddenly. Her eyes darted to Miller, then down back to her work without saying anything. Her lips quirked to the side and Miller frowned.

“You okay?” he asked.

“None of your business,” she responded.

“We’re really good at having conversations,” Miller murmured. “You know that?”

Raven hesitated, but there was something in her smile that Miller knew would get her to talk. After a few beats of silence, she shook her head a little. “Wells and I have these coins,” Raven finally answered. “We use them to talk sometimes.” Miller still had an arched eyebrow. “It turns cold when he’s bored,” she said, waving her hand a little. “Just surprised me.”

“You and Wells use secret coins to communicate how you’re feeling?” Miller asked. “You’re disgusting.”

She was still smiling that smile. “We’re not anything official,” she said. “But—c’mon, Miller, you know what it’s like to have someone that you want to know things about at all moments of the day.”

“Not anymore,” he muttered. That was only a half-truth.

“Whatever, you _used_ to, then. Or you will again.” Raven picked up a wadded piece of parchment that she’d ruined earlier and tossed it at him. “I’m disgusting. Sue me.”

“Already drafting the legal work in my head,” Miller responded. He watched as Raven pressed her thumb back into the coin in response.

He wanted something like that desperately.

* * *

Monty walked into the library and spotted Miller in an instant. He was ready to make his move. Today was the day. It was humming inside of Monty for all he was worth. He wanted Miller to leave the library today knowing how he felt.

But crap, he was nervous.

There were balled up pieces of parchment around Miller which led Monty to believe that someone else had been here earlier, considering Miller didn’t ball up his parchment he just spelled it right if he made a mistake, but Monty sat down anyway.

“Hi,” he said.

Miller looked up. “Why’re you always late?”

“I’m easily distracted,” Monty answered. “But you love me, so it’s okay.” Miller arched an eyebrow, and Monty grinned back. “I’m also easily lovable,” he said.

Monty tended to make a fool of himself when he was nervous.

But Miller didn’t argue, he just pushed the textbook he was reading across the table to Monty. Monty counted it as a win. “Found this old text,” Miller told him. “While you were being easily distracted. It has some good information about Wiggenweld and what it was used for _before_ they figured out what it was used for.”

“Brilliant!” Monty reached for the textbook. Miller arched his other eyebrow. “What?”

“You’re just very excited to learn about Wiggenweld today, is all,” Miller said.

“Something like that,” Monty answered.

Monty didn’t get an opening to say anything until a little bit later, though. Monty forgot his notes from their session previously so they couldn’t use them as a reference when comparing to the newer text. It wasn’t that big of a deal, but they did have to go find the textbook they’d used before so they could compare. It was mostly just an inconvenience.

“I can grab it,” Miller said.

Monty hopped out of his chair to follow him. They made it a few paces down one of the aisles, Miller scanning the books trying to remember exactly which one they’d found the old information in, his mouth quirked to the side in frustration as he went. Monty scanned too but his mind was too jumpy to really read any of the spines.

“Nate,” Monty said after a few moments. It was now or never. “How did you know?” Monty asked. Miller was clearly very distracted, though, his eyes scanning the bindings of the books as he searched out the one they were looking for, and hummed absentmindedly. “Miller.”

“Hm? What.”

“How’d you know?” Monty repeated. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was so nervous. He’d come to terms with the idea of being into guys and girls a while back. But he’d never acted on it, or whatever. He’d been with a few girls and definitely been into guys, but never with them. Which was probably it. And Miller was, well. “That you were into guys.”

Miller paused then, looking over his shoulder with his eyebrows high on his forehead. “What? Where’s this coming from?”

“I mean, you dated that Quidditch player in Gryffindor, right?” Monty asked, and Miller dipped his head forward. It had been a few days since they’d joked about Miller’s dating history, so Monty understood the confusion. “But you said you dated Roma too.”

“Yeah,” Miller said. “So?”

“I’m just—”

“I’m not confused,” Miller muttered, looking angry, turning back to scan the bookshelf again. “I’m into guys. I’m into girls. I’m into whoever. It’s just who I am.”

“Yeah, I— _yeah_ ,” Monty stressed. He knew that. “What I’m asking is how you _knew_.”

“Why?” Miller was frowning at the bookshelf and shifted a foot to the left, still scanning for the name. “You into someone?”

“Maybe.” Miller froze again, and Monty knew he’d piqued his interest. Miller looked over his shoulder carefully, licking his lips slowly, narrowing his eyes just a bit. He spun, forgetting the book on the shelf, and turned to face Monty completely. “But I’ve never _been_ with a guy,” Monty said.

“It’s not any different,” Miller murmured. “Except sometimes there’s scruff.” Monty’s eyes lowered to the scruff on Miller’s chin, and Miller watched Monty swallow. “Rougher hands,” Miller carried on, his voice thick.

Monty bet that Miller had rough hands. Calloused and everything, especially from playing Quidditch. He suddenly ached to feel Miller’s hands on his skin.

Monty didn’t sound like himself when he asked, “Show me?”

Miller tried to pull his eyes from Monty’s mouth but he couldn’t, or he maybe he just wouldn’t. He licked his lips another time and Monty stilled, watching the motion with a dark gaze. “Monty,” he murmured. Monty’s eyes fell shut. And he waited. And he wanted. And then Miller’s hand slid around Monty’s side and Monty forgot how to breathe.

When Miller kissed him Monty’s lips responded in an instant.

Miller’s other hand lifted to his cheek and he’d been right, his hands were calloused and rough but somehow they were incredibly gentle too. Miller was carefully cradling Monty’s face in his hands. And the scruff, that was there too, also rough but so, so, so wonderful against Monty’s skin.

The distance was too much and Monty’s hands flew up, tugging Miller flush against him and tipping his chin back to deepen the kiss. Monty wasn’t sure how long they kissed against the bookshelf in the library. He didn’t care. When he and Miller finally parted, both of them flushed and breathless, he felt more magical than he ever had in his entire life.

Miller licked his lips and Monty watched the motion, wanting to kiss him again. “We should get back,” Miller murmured. His eyes were still dark and his voice was thick and Monty still wanted to kiss him again. But Miller stepped away, eyes scanning the bookshelf already. “I’ll find the text,” he rasped.

Monty hurried to his seat without looking back, fighting a smile all the way.

* * *

Miller wasn’t thinking straight. To be fair, he was never really thinking _straight_ , but his line of thought was not comprehensible. He’d just kissed Monty Green.

Well, it had been hours ago at this point. But his entire body was still buzzing from it. Since his bet with Griffin he’d kissed dozens of people but none of them were like that. None of them made Miller want to ignore all of his responsibilities and just keep kissing. Monty, though. For Salazar’s sake, Monty Green…

He wasn’t sure how he got through the rest of their time in the library, if he was being honest. Monty was all soft smiles after that, all licking lips, and Miller’s insides felt like they were on fire. At one point Monty’s hand had been stretched out on the table and Miller wanted to reach across and tangle their fingers together. It was absurd. It was insane. When their allotted time was over Miller nearly sprinted out of the library, murmuring something about Quidditch practice, and leaving without much of a goodbye.

He’d just kissed Monty Green.

“Miller!” Clarke sped by on her broom and hovered a few feet from where Miller was flying. “The point of you being the Keeper,” she said, “is that you don’t let people score on you.”

“It’s just practice,” he bit back.

“Get your mind out of the garbage!” She zoomed away from him with a nasty look over her shoulder and Miller huffed, trying to focus on Quidditch. But Clarke was right, he was incredibly distracted. All he could think about was the warmth of Monty’s mouth, the way he’d sighed into Miller’s, how Monty had fisted Miller’s shirt and tugged him closer. Clarke sped back to him after some time had passed, close enough to shove her finger into his chest. “Do we need to talk about your performance today?” she demanded.

“I’m distracted,” Miller muttered.

“Evidently!” She prodded him harder. “Do better! We play Gryffindor soon. And to be honest, Murphy could be a better Keeper than you at the moment.”

“And I suck ass at being Keeper,” Murphy shouted from the distance, grinning.

“Is this about Bryan?” Clarke asked, her voice dropping so only Miller could hear her over the wind.

He frowned. “No.” Godric, no. “It’s not.”

“Well, then—”

“Sometimes people have off days,” Miller said. “It won’t happen again.”

* * *

It happened again. A lot.

Especially after Monty cleared things up. They were in the library again, Miller studiously avoiding Monty’s eye, when Monty hooked his ankle around Miller’s under the table.

“I was talking about you,” Monty said. It had been two days since they’d kissed in-between the shelves and they hadn’t really been getting a lot of work done on their project. Miller’s eyes flickered up, met Monty’s, and then flickered back down to the text they were studying. “When I said I was into someone,” Monty added. Miller blushed. He _blushed_. A small smile crept onto his face despite the fact that he was still looking at the book. “Just to be super clear with you, you know.”

“I appreciate you being super clear with me,” Miller said. “I’d… wondered.”

Monty placed his hands on the book between them and tugged until it was across the table, closer to Monty than to Miller. Miller looked up, still smiling the softest smile Monty had ever seen. Miller was incredibly attractive. He had a lot going for him. The scuff and the eyelashes and the general physique. But holy Hufflepuff, the fact that he could simply be _cute_ on top of all of that was making Monty’s stomach do silly things.

“That’s all you have to say?” Monty teased. Miller licked his lips and Monty’s own smile faltered as he watched the motion. “Come help me find this book,” Monty said suddenly.

Miller arched an eyebrow, looking smug, looking like he won something. “What book?” he asked.

“ _Nate_ ,” Monty nearly pled.

They were down an empty aisle in seconds. Monty’s hands were already latched onto Miller’s shirt to keep him close but Miller stopped, centimeters away from Monty’s mouth. Monty was practically whining. He wanted to kiss Miller again so badly. _So badly_. But every time he moved to close the distance Miller would tip back just a little bit.

“What changed your mind?” Miller finally asked, his voice low.

Monty’s eyebrows came together in confusion. “What?”

“I thought you couldn’t trust people like me,” he said slowly, waiting to see if Monty caught on. Monty’s head dropped backwards and a laugh crept out of him. Miller remembered their first conversation in the hall all those years ago, after all. “Everyone knows what Slytherin’s are like,” Miller said. His voice was caught somewhere between teasing and mockery, and lifted like it was a question.

“You’re not—” Monty started, but stopped. “I was wrong,” he said. “Slytherin’s are just like the rest of us.”

“Hm…” Miller leaned in slowly and Monty waited for the kiss that still didn’t come. “I don’t know, Green,” he breathed.

“I was _twelve_ ,” Monty pressed. He watched as Miller licked his lips. Monty could feel Miller’s breath against his own lips. “You—Nate, you…”

“When did I become Nate to you?” Miller asked, arching an eyebrow slowly. But there was a smile there.

Monty was dying. “If you don’t kiss me in the next ten seconds, Nathan Miller, then I swear I’ll—” Miller closed the distance between them, his mouth still curved into a smile against Monty’s lips. Monty sighed and Miller’s smile grew and gosh, gosh, Monty could do this forever. “So much,” Monty exhaled between them. “You’re _so much_.”

“Is that a compliment?” Miller teased.

Monty wasn’t sure they’d ever get their project done.  

And it happened again, when they got out of their potions class and Monty caught the subtle tilt of Miller’s head. Monty followed him with his heart skipping beats, glancing over his shoulder before dipping down the hallway Miller walked down, before Miller grabbed him and backed him to the wall. He pressed his hips forward and leaned over Monty with his forearm above them, and why did Miller have to be sexy, too?

“Where’re you headed?” Miller asked.

Monty’s hands tugged desperately against Miller’s hips, needing just a little bit more pressure. “Care of Magical Creatures,” Monty gasped when Miller jerked forward a bit. It was then that Miller decided to kiss him after all, leaning down and sucking hard against Monty’s neck. “ _Nate_.” Monty felt him smile. “I’ll be late.”

“Let me walk you,” he murmured. “I’ve got a free block.”

Miller gave him a chaste kiss before pulling back, leaving Monty annoyingly breathless and itching for more.

And again, down another hallway, in which Monty asked, “How many secret hallways do you know about?” Followed, of course, by Miller laughing into Monty’s mouth, sweet and bright and magical.

Outside of the Great Hall. By the Quidditch pitch. In the Astronomy Tower. It was like Miller couldn’t get enough of Monty, and honestly the same was vice versa. They spent their time in the library catching one another’s eyes as they pretended to work on their project, smiling like there was a secret between them. They spent potions class with their legs pressed side by side against one another, fingers brushing as they passed supplies back and forth.

It was everything Monty wanted, but it also wasn’t enough.

* * *

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Clarke flew to Miller with a grin on her face. “We’ve finally got back the Keeper who earned his spot on the team because of his skill,” she said. Miller was on fire. Not literally. But like, he hadn’t let a Quaffle go through in practices. Not a single one. And Dax was absurdly strong so his tosses were practically painful. Miller had his mojo back. “You’ve been doing great lately,” Clarke told him.

She was quick to challenge her teammates and push them to be better, but Clarke was a good team captain. She would absolutely always point out when they were doing well, too.

“I told you it wouldn’t happen again,” Miller told her with a grin. He felt unstoppable. He was playing his favorite sport, he was kissing Monty Green, and he was happy. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this effortlessly happy. “Two weeks until we play Gryffindor,” he said.

“We’re going to crush them,” Clarke responded. Miller felt it in his veins. He couldn’t wait to rub it in Bellamy’s face. “By the way,” she said, dropping her voice again so it wouldn’t carry in the wind. “I’m totally going to beat you.”

Miller arched an eyebrow. “You realize we’re on the same team,” he told her. “Right?”

“In our bet,” she reminded him. Miller’s stomach dropped. Because he’d forgotten. He hadn’t seen Raven lately so she wasn’t there to remind him of it, and with Monty occupying the rest of his thoughts it made sense that he’d forgotten. “Raven says you haven’t given her a name in weeks.”

Monty felt too precious to share with Clarke. So instead he said, “I’ve been busy.” He couldn’t call off the bet, not without Clarke getting nosy. Things with Monty were still so new and Miller wanted to keep the guarded, hidden from his friends who would surely tease him. Things with Bryan had ended partly from outside pressure, and he wasn’t sure how other students would take Miller and Monty getting together.

He couldn’t call off the bet, but he certainly wasn’t participating anymore either. After that first kiss with Monty in the library his thoughts had turned to mush.

Monty wasn’t even on Raven’s list. Miller hadn’t told _anyone_ , especially their score keeper.

“Give me another week,” Clarke said with a grin, “and then you’re in the dust.”

She raced away on her broom and with a soft smile, Miller decided he’d let Clarke win this round.

* * *

They were sitting by the Great Lake when Monty finally brought it up. It had been weeks of them sneaking down passage ways at this point, kissing the daylights out of one another. It had been weeks of gentle touches and soft smiles, weeks of happiness. But the sneaking, that kind of unsettled Monty, if he were being honest. He wanted to kiss Miller in the open and hold his hand as they walked from one class to the next.

He was even kind of reluctant to tell Jasper that things had finally _happened_. His best friend noticed that Monty was happier, suddenly, and much more secretive, but Jasper didn’t push. He just looked at Monty with that knowing smile and let it slide.

But still, Monty wanted more.

“What are we doing?” he asked. Miller looked up from the textbook they’d brought out with them, his eyebrows arched slightly. The question was out of nowhere, considering they were very good at getting their work done without too much conversation to distract them. Miller waited to respond until Monty met his gaze.

“Finally getting some work done on our project,” Miller answered. But they were close on the blanket that they were sitting on, their bodies keeping each other warm on this cool evening.

Monty frowned, reaching forward and closing the book between them. “You know how I feel,” Monty told him. Because he did. Monty whispered it into Miller’s mouth late at night when they would’ve gotten in trouble for being out of their rooms, or whispered into his ear when they were hidden in a supply closet as Peeves lingered nearby.  

Miller turned to face him head on. “Yeah,” he said. “I know.”

Monty leaned forward, resting his hands on Miller’s ankles, creeping up his calves. “Well…?” he wondered. He wanted an elaboration.

Miller smiled. “Well…” he trailed off. Miller covered Monty’s hands with his own, tugging him forward a little so with one hand he could cup Monty’s cheek. “Thought it was obvious what we were doing,” Miller murmured.

And then they were kissing again, wandering hands as they stretched out in the blanket.

Monty should’ve gotten a better answer. Jasper had always told him not to trust a Slytherin.

* * *

It was the very next day that Monty was in the library, pouring over some Charms work, when Raven settled into the seat across from him. They exchanged friendly smiles before Monty went back to work, making a note in his textbook with his quill, when Raven made some sort of noise of amusement.

If Monty and Raven hadn’t both been sorted into Ravenclaw, Monty wasn’t sure they would’ve been friends. Monty was really thankful that they were both sorted into Ravenclaw.

“What?” Monty asked, curiosity getting the best of him as he peered across the table at the tallies Raven was making. “What’s that?”

Raven glanced over her shoulder before turning back to Monty with a grin. “If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”

Her grin was infectious, because Monty was grinning too. “Try me,” he challenged.

“Some of my Slytherin friends made a bet,” Raven said. “Griffin and Miller. To see who could get the most kisses before their next Quidditch match.”

Monty didn’t know it was possible for someone’s mood to sink that fast. “What?” he asked.

“I know,” Raven laughed, clearly not picking up on the way Monty was no longer smiling with her, “even saying it is so fucking funny.” But, seriously, Monty wasn’t laughing. “Stupid Slytherins and their pride, huh?”

Despite the way the world went silent, Monty managed to ask, “ _Nathan_ Miller?”

“Yeah,” Raven answered, not noticing the hitch in Monty’s voice. “He’s falling behind,” Raven said. “Clarke’s catching up, 46 to 49.”

_Forty-nine._

* * *

It wasn’t often that Miller found himself outside of the entrance to Gryffindor tower. Sometimes Bellamy would have one too many firewhiskys at Hogsmeade and Miller would have to help sneak him back through the portrait hole, but other than that he didn’t like to come here.

Miller’s father was a Gryffindor, and though Miller himself believed his own sorting to be true it was often that his father wondered why. It made for an uneasy relationship at times.

It was a few minutes before some first-year showed up, looking utterly terrified at the sight of Miller in his Slytherin tie. “Get Bellamy Blake for me,” Miller said. The kid was frozen. “For the love of Godric,” Miller snapped, “go in there and get Bellamy Blake!” The kid leaped in fright, murmuring the password to the Fat Lady quietly before hurrying into the common area. “It’s not polite to stare,” Miller told the Fat Lady when her portrait swung closed.

“It’s not polite to scare the life out of first-years, either.”

“Bite me.”

The Fat Lady huffed, and Miller waited with his arms crossed for Bellamy to arrive. It didn’t take too long, and soon Bellamy was climbing out to greet Miller.

“You rang?” he asked with a grin. “Scared the life out of Charlotte, you know.”

“Whatever. I’ve got to talk to you,” Miller murmured. Bellamy looked over his shoulder as the Fat Lady’s portrait swung shut, and then she was glaring at the both of them. “Without her.”

“You children these days are just so _rude_ ,” she huffed.

Bellamy tipped his head, motioning for Miller to follow him. They walked the halls of Hogwarts until ducking down into an abandoned hallway where the portraits and their nosiness couldn’t reach. “Need me to kiss you again?” Bellamy joked. But Miller wasn’t smiling. He was stressed. He paced back and forth as Bellamy leaned backwards against the wall. “You okay?” Bellamy asked, noticing the mood. “What happened?”

“I think I—” Miller started but stopped before he could say anything. Bellamy was his best friend. He knew what Monty was asking from him the other day, that he wanted a name to their relationship, and Miller was afraid. He liked how things were going with Monty. Of course he wanted more. But he was still afraid. So to Bellamy he went. “Never mind. I don’t know.”

Bellamy was unamused. “You were going to say something,” Bellamy said. Miller kept pacing. “Is it Bryan?”

Miller’s face contorted. “No—fuck, it’s—” he sighed deeply before turning back to his friend. “You know Monty Green? In Ravenclaw?” he asked, and Bellamy nodded. Monty was a fucking genius, just as powerful with a wand as he was without. Everyone knew who he was. “I think I—I mean we…” Miller trailed off and stopped pacing. Why was this so difficult? He scrubbed at his face, reminding himself that this was part of why things didn’t work out with Bryan. Because Miller just couldn’t fucking talk about how he felt. He needed Bellamy to help him through this or it was going to blow up in his face. “I want to ask him to Hogsmeade,” Miller settled with.

Bellamy arched an eyebrow. “Yeah? You think he’d say yes?”

Miller nodded. He knew that Monty would say yes if Miller asked. And then they could do all the things that Miller _really_ wanted to do, like hold hands and walk down the cobbled streets, and take sips of one another’s Butterbeer, and wander toward the Shrieking Shack. But he was terrified. Miller was terrified of those things.

Opening up to Monty, letting Monty into his life like _this_ , it was a terrifying concept. Monty was so much, and Miller still felt so broken. In the moments where it was just Miller and Monty, the two of them down an empty hallway or out by the Great Lake, Miller felt close. Like everything he wanted was just out of reach, or like he was just a few steps away. But then they’d split for their own Houses and the fear would creep in, heavy in Miller’s blood and dark in his mind.

It was the same with Bryan. The House rivalry made Miller’s lack of emotions (or rather lack of ability to address those emotions) even worse. And it was happening again, with Monty.

“I just don’t know if I’m…” Miller trailed off, looking toward Bellamy in hopes that his friend would fill in the blanks.

“Ready?” Bellamy asked. Miller nodded again. After a pause Bellamy asked, “Do you like him?” Miller hesitated. Bellamy stood up a little straighter. “You’re here talking about how you want to ask him to Hogsmeade,” Bellamy said. “How you think he’ll say yes. Why is answering if you like him so hard to do?”

Miller clenched his teeth so hard his jaw hurt. “What if it doesn’t work out?” Miller managed. “What if I fuck it up again?”

The space between the two of them was silent. Bellamy pushed off the wall he was leaning against and placed his heavy hand on Miller’s shoulder. “I’m not going to tell you it’ll work out,” Bellamy said. “I mean I’m not in divination, Miller. But if you _like_ him, and he likes you…” Bellamy shrugged a little, offering a small encouraging smile. “Go for it. Take the leap.”

“Is it too soon?” Miller asked. That was his other big worry. That this, that _Monty_ , was just a replacement or a filler for what he once had. “After…”

“That’s for you to decide,” Bellamy said. “Not me.”

Miller looked at his friend and his voice shook as he said, “He calls me Nate.”

Bellamy’s smile grew. “I guess you know what to do, then,” he said.

* * *

Miller’s entire body was humming with nerves.

There was something more to it, too. Excitement, maybe, or hope. It was there, just below the nerves, reminding Miller that things could be good. That things with Monty could be good. He was in the library early today, wanting to ask Monty right when he arrived just so he could really clear up with Monty how he felt. So that they could put a name to what was happening between them.

Miller checked the time before frowning a bit, realizing, okay, he wasn’t all that early.

In fact, Monty was late. Monty had been late before. Repeatedly. But this was a different sort of late, much later than normal.  

Miller checked the time once more to make sure he wasn’t reading it wrong before he stood, deciding to go find Monty instead of just waiting for him. He only made it to his feet when Monty appeared, his face uncharacteristically blank.

“Hey!” Miller burst. Definitely the nerves. “There you are.”

“I almost didn’t come,” Monty said. His voice was uncharacteristically empty.

Miller’s eyebrows pull together. “What? Why not?” Miller couldn’t wait for an answer. “Never mind. So I’ve been thinking—”

“I have to say something,” Monty cut him off.

“No, wait, listen,” Miller was basically bouncing on the heels of his feet.

“You should let me talk,” Monty barreled on.

“I think—” Miller continued.

“ _Miller_ ,” Monty warned.

Miller startled. “Did you just call me—?”

It exploded out of Monty without warning, “ _Immobulus_!” And then Miller was standing there, frozen, Monty’s wand drawn on him in the middle of the library. “Raving Rowena, Nate!” Monty dropped his wand as though he was ashamed with himself. His hands were shaking, his lower lip was trembling, and Miller was frozen. Miller couldn’t move. “How many _points_ did I get you?” he croaked.

If Miller could respond, he wouldn’t even know what to say.

“I know about your stupid bet,” Monty carried on. His eyes were wet and he looked broken, so broken. “No _wonder_ you kept coming around! Raven said you were falling behind. And to think—to think I actually thought there was something here,” Monty said. “Between us. How _stupid_ could I have _been_?”

And then Monty looked at him. He just stopped and looked at Miller, frozen where he was, confusion still on his face from Monty calling him _Miller_ , confusion he couldn’t get away because he was spelled like that.

The air itself felt empty.

“I’ll finish the assignment myself,” Monty finally said, blinking hard enough that his tears never really fell. “This is over.”

* * *

Wells found Miller in the library less than ten minutes later, still frozen in his spot. He spelled him right again and nearly demanded to know what had happened.

“Nothing,” Miller rasped. It was going to take a bit for him to get feeling back in his face. He might’ve preferred staying numb like that, unable to move. Now that his limbs were working again everything felt too heavy. “It’s nothing.”

“Was it Dax?” Wells asked. “Someone’s got to tell your Head of House that—”

“ _Nothing happened_ ,” Miller snapped. He knew his anger was misdirected but he couldn’t stop himself. “Don’t you fucking tell anyone either, okay?” He scooped his books into his arms and shoved them into his bag, rushing out of the library despite the fact that Wells was calling out for him.

He stopped in the hallway, wondering if this was what heartbreak felt like.

* * *

“What is _wrong_ with you?” Bellamy asked the next day. They were on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. Miller just needed to not be in the castle, certainly not in the dungeons that were dark and cold and made everything worse. He showed up at the portrait hole again and Bellamy eyed him curiously, not mentioning anything until they actually went outside. “You’ve barely said a thing all day.”

“I just need to not talk about it,” Miller said. He needed to not talk about it and not think about it, because how could this have gotten so out of hand so quickly? Just days ago Monty had been smiling against Miller’s mouth and Miller was _ready_. He was happy. He knew he should’ve told Monty about the bet, or cancelled it, but he didn’t—he hadn’t put that much thought into it. He didn’t realize it would be this bad. It wasn’t on his mind, so he’d assumed it wouldn’t hurt Monty anyway.

Bellamy sighed but didn’t push. At least, not right away. They just kept walking, in line with the trees, old leaves crunching under their feet. “Did he say no?” Bellamy asked.

Miller didn’t even get to ask. He didn’t even get to ask Monty if he wanted to go to Hogsmeade with him.

“He said no,” Miller lied.

The truth felt ten times worse.

* * *

Miller decided to just focus on his stupid fucking bet with Griffin. He was hoping that if anything, it would distract him. Like any normal wizard could’ve predicted, it just made things a hundred times worse.

Miller had barely even kissed the kid, some Gryffindor named Atom who was a year below him, when he was already pulling away. “Not up to your standards?” Atom asked with a smile.

“Just not really feeling it,” Miller murmured. But he went straight to Raven, finding her in the library tucked in a back corner like always, and gave him the name. “Atom Newell, Gryffindor.”

She arched a curious eyebrow at him but dug around for the parchment. “Surprised you’re still playing,” she said, adding the tallies by Miller’s name. “I thought you’d given up.” Miller’s eyes darted to the paper and he was still a few points ahead of Clarke, especially now with his latest addition. But it felt cheap, and Miller felt sick. “You okay?” Raven asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

Miller raced away from Raven without answering, stopping just outside the hallway to catch his breath. No matter how long he stood there trying to breathe, the air felt toxic.

* * *

“Will you quit that?” Monty muttered, swatting the wad of parchment that Jasper had tossed at him in a different direction. Jasper frowned at him. “Just—stop, Jas.” He felt defeated. It had been days since he ended whatever sham of a relationship he’d had with Miller and Monty still hadn’t bounced back. He was typically pretty good at that. He just thought it would be different this time. “I’m not in the mood today.”

“You haven’t been in any sort of mood for days,” Jasper returned. “What happened with Miller?”

“I can’t tell you,” Monty grit out. “Because you’ll just say _I told you so_.”

Jasper tossed another wad of parchment at him. “If you think my desire to gloat outweighs my love and adoration for you as my best friend in the entire world,” Jasper said, “then you are highly mistaken.” Monty squeezed his eyes shut tightly to fight off tears he didn’t want to address. “I swear to be objective. I’ll make an unbreakable vow with you. Anything, Monty, just don’t bottle it up.”

Monty let out a wet breath. “I really liked him, Jasper.” The story exploded out of him all at once: The kisses in the library and in the hidden hallways. The reluctance to put a name on it. The bet that Raven had told him about. Spelling him frozen in the library. Feeling broken. By the end, Jasper was just looking at him. “Don’t say anything awful,” Monty warned, still kind of fighting away tears.

“I just—you spelled Nathan Miller frozen. In the library?” Jasper shook his head. “Good Godric.” At that Monty laughed a little, but it didn’t feel like much. “Just—okay. So. Raven tells you about this bet. And then you… you spell him frozen so he can’t explain. And then leave him there?”

Monty blinked. “What?”

“I mean—you didn’t give him a chance to explain,” Jasper pointed out, not unkindly.

“How’re you supposed to explain yourself out of a bet to get the most kisses?” Monty practically demanded. “You can’t!”

“Well how would you know if you didn’t give him a chance?”

Monty was instantly frustrated. “You’re the one who’s always told me that Slytherins are awful and horrid and I’m giving you a chance to be awful and horrid back to one and you’re wondering why I didn’t give him a damn chance to explain himself?” Monty huffed. “You’re the worst.”

“You _liked him_ , Monty,” Jasper said. “And you told me to not say anything awful. I’m trying to be supportive, here.” He popped his shoulder into a shrug. “I mean—half of me says you did the right thing. But the other half thinks it can’t be that simple. You and I have done some very complicated things that needed explanation, for example. Pranks gone awry and such.”

“Yeah, but—”

“You spent weeks kissing the guy,” Jasper cut him off. “You’re telling me you think he was faking the whole time, just to win some bet?” Monty thought about the soft, hesitant smiles that Miller shared with him. The breathy whispers of _yes_ between the two of them. The careful way Miller would cradle his cheek. “I just think maybe you need more information,” Jasper said.

* * *

The rest of their team was barely off the field when Clarke pulled Miller aside, her eyes dark and angry. “That was shoddy Quidditch,” Clarke told him. Miller yanked his helmet off and tossed it to the ground, knowing this was true. “You were on your game a week ago. What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” she repeated. “Do you know how many Quaffles went through your hoops today?” Clarke asked. “Do you know how many points I scored?” Miller didn’t know. And he didn’t want to know. “ _Fifteen Quaffles_ ,” Clarke enunciated. “That’s not even counting whatever Murphy scored.”

Miller threw his broom on the ground and threw his hands up in the air. “What the hell do you _want_ from me, Griffin!” he shouted. The tone of his voice startled her, Miller knew this by the way she tensed. “I’m fucking trying, alright?”

She tipped her head to the side. “What happened?”

“For the love of— _Salazar_ , Griffin, nothing _happened_!”

“You were on top of your game a week ago,” she repeated. There wasn’t ice in her voice like before, but rather something worse: concern. “Something happened. What was it?”

“I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again,” Miller said, turning to face her. “Mind your own fucking business.” Clarke reached out to stop him from storming past her like he was trying. “ _Griffin_.”

“Bellamy’s worried about you,” Clarke said. The sudden and abrupt mention of Miller’s best friend was troublesome, to say the least. It threw him off. He stopped marching.

Miller did the only thing he could in that moment. He scoffed. “Since when do you talk to Bellamy?”

“Since he’s worried about you,” Clarke said. Miller didn’t say anything. He took a deep breath and turned, looking up at the empty stands that would be filled in a week’s time when they would be playing Gryffindor. He just wanted to make sense of this stupid fucking aching in his chest. Before Monty there was a hole there, sure, but now everything just _hurt_. It was eons worse than before. “He wouldn’t tell me much,” Clarke added.

“Well, good, at least I can trust my best fucking mate.”

“Miller,” Clarke tried. She wasn’t very good at feelings either, it seemed. They stood awkwardly a few feet apart before she sighed, shaking her head. “I’m calling off the bet.”

Miller surprised himself by scoffing again. “ _What_?”

“Well the whole point of it was to get your head out of your ass,” Clarke said, sounding frustrated, “not get it lodged back up there.” She waved her hands at him. “Bet. Off. I’m going to tell Raven now.”

“What did Bellamy tell you?” Miller nearly demanded.

“He didn’t have to tell me anything for me to figure it out,” Clarke shot back. “You hadn’t given Raven any names in a long time, Miller. You had someone for however brief a period of time. So just—bet’s off, okay?” She looked as defeated as Miller felt. “You would’ve lost anyway.”

“Oh, screw you.”

* * *

He knew, realistically, that talking to Monty was the only next thing to do.

Miller had to explain everything, down to why there was a bet in the first place to how Monty had never been _part_ of it. He just couldn’t do it. Even if he did explain everything to Monty, Miller sure as hell didn’t deserve forgiveness.

Ever since Monty had blown up on him in the library, Monty was ignoring him in all aspects of life. He’d even moved in potions, considering their project was due and they hadn’t needed to work together anymore. Monty sat all the way across the room out of view of Miller completely. Meanwhile Miller kept fumbling with his own potions, enough so that Professor Anya stopped him after class once to ask if he’d been feeling alright.

Today was different.

When Miller finally made his way out of Potions, Monty was standing there waiting for him. Miller froze. Monty looked sad. Miller felt it in his chest.

“Monty,” he rasped.

“Can we talk?” Monty asked. Miller’s eyes flickered down the hallway. “Care of Magical Creatures was cancelled today,” Monty elaborated. “Something about unicorn flu.” Miller was nodding immediately. He needed to talk. He had so much to say. So he nodded. Monty tipped his head to the side. “Let’s head to the lake.”

It was awful how painfully awkward it was to be walking beside Monty. More than anything Miller wanted to reach out and tangle their fingers together, to hold Monty’s hand in his own. But he couldn’t, and that sucked, and everything sucked. They walked silently, no use in small talk, before they finally made it outside the castle. They lowered themselves down to the ground and Miller waited. He wasn’t sure what to say.

Finally Monty broke the silence. “Jasper said I should give you a chance to explain,” he murmured, fiddling with the end of his tie. “But I…” he trailed off. “I really don’t want to.”

“I made a mistake,” Miller responded. His voice sounded rough. Everything ached. “I should’ve told you…” he started, but stopped, because that wasn’t where he wanted to start. “It’s all a mess, Monty,” he said. “And I’m sorry that I hurt you, that’s—that’s what makes this so awful. That I hurt you.”

“Save it,” Monty nearly snapped. Miller had never heard him like this before, and maybe it’s because Monty was more than hurting. Maybe he was broken, too. “I don’t want an apology; I want an explanation!”

Miller scrubbed his hand over his face and took a deep breath. “Clarke and I had a bet,” Miller said. “It started a month before you and I even began working together in potions.” Monty wasn’t looking at him, but Miller knew he was listening. “She thought—she thought that I’d been off my game in Quidditch, thought it would help. She said I was too—I’d just gotten out of something with someone else and it was still messing me up,” Miller said. “He fucked me up.”

“Bryan,” Monty noted, and Miller nodded.

“He couldn’t do inter-House relationships and I wasn’t great at talking about how I felt, and…” Miller trailed off. “It just hurt. And I didn’t want to hurt anymore or feel like that anymore so I agreed to Griffin’s bet. I figured, if anything, it would pass the time.”

“Oh, great,” Monty huffed. He went to stand. “Thanks for clearing up what we—”

“Stop it,” Miller practically ordered. Monty sunk back down. “The first few weeks,” Miller told him, his voice more rushed now in case Monty tried to flee again, “they were randoms. It wasn’t—it wasn’t an attempt to get in a relationship or a hookup. Most of them were just pecks. See Raven set up the point system so everyone House was worth a different number of points.” Monty’s eyes were pricking with tears and Miller wanted it to stop. “Repeat kisses didn’t count,” Miller said. “Just one. I couldn’t kiss, say, Bellamy every day and rack up points. It was just once.”

Monty blinked hard a few times. “You and I…” he trailed off.

Miller let out a soft breath. “You were never part of the bet, Monty,” he told him. Monty’s eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “I never gave Raven your name, not even after the first time we kissed. And when I was kissing you—when we were together, all that time, there had never been anyone else. I wasn’t getting points in the middle, it was just you.”

“I don’t understand,” Monty murmured.

“Even before we’d kissed I told myself I wouldn’t try anything with you,” Miller said. “Working with you in potions, Monty, I liked you. And I didn’t want to kiss you for a bet. And then you came along and wanted to kiss me anyway, and I just—it got all jumbled.” Monty was staring at him now but Miller couldn’t read him. And maybe he didn’t want to. Because he knew this was over, whatever had happened between them, just because of poor timing and a stupid bet. Miller looked away. He pushed himself to his feet and Monty watched him stand, but Miller still couldn’t look at him. “I should’ve called off the bet,” Miller told him as he stood. “Or told you about it. But I figured if I wasn’t kissing anyone else anyway that it didn’t matter. And that’s my own mistake.”

“Nate,” Monty said softly.

It made Miller ache. “I was going to ask you to Hogsmeade,” Miller said, stepping backwards slowly. He shook his head. “I never meant to hurt you,” he said again. “I’m so sorry, Monty.” Another step away. “You deserve better than that.”

He walked away before Monty could say anything else, leaving the boy to stare out across the great lake alone.

* * *

“I need to see that scroll,” Monty said, dropping into the seat next to Raven in their common room. She arched a curious eyebrow at him, clearly not knowing what he was talking about. “The one with the bet. Clarke and Nate.” Raven’s other eyebrow shot up curiously as well. “And the kisses.”

“Did you just call Miller, _Nate_?” she asked.

“Just—let me see it!”

Raven shook her head, but her eyebrows were still way up high. “No can do, Monty.” She shrugged as he gaped at her. “Ripped it to shreds a few days ago,” she said. “They called off the bet. Which was a shame, because they were neck-in-neck, but—” Monty sighed, slumping down onto the couch. Raven sat quietly beside him, studying him with that look still on her face. Finally she broke the silence and asked, “It was you, wasn’t it?”

Monty frowned. “What was me?”

“The reason Miller stopped giving me names,” Raven said. The weight that was in Monty’s chest had been easing slightly over the past few hours, especially after talking to Miller, but it still felt like there was more. “Wells and I were pretty sure he’d met someone serious,” Raven said. “Because Miller doesn’t lose competitions. But he’d completely given up on this one despite being in the lead.” Raven nodded. “It was you.”

“No—”

“I saw your face fall when I told you about the bet the first time,” Raven stopped him. Monty wanted to disappear into the couch. “And days later Miller came to me with another name! Crap, it all makes sense now!”

Monty’s chest felt hot, either in anger or disappointment. “He went to you with another name?”

“Yeah,” Raven said. “But he looked disgusted with himself, if that helps. And I mean, _disgusted_. And then there were no more names, probably because he hated himself.” Raven shrugged. “Miller’s big into self-hatred.” Monty reached up to scrub his hands over his face, fighting the conflicting emotions that were raging inside of him. Part wanted to forgive Miller immediately. Raven wouldn’t lie, not to Monty, not about this. Which meant that Miller hadn’t been kissing anyone else, that maybe they’d actually been close to something. But another part of him was still frustrated, he felt betrayed even though he wasn’t sure he had that right. “You talk to him?” Raven asked.

“Kind of,” Monty murmured. “I’m just—confused.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he is, too.” Raven looked at her friend. “Did he tell you that you weren’t on the list?” Raven asked, and Monty nodded. “Never gave me your name,” Raven said. “And I think that means something.”

Monty nodded another time. He thought so, too.

* * *

Miller struggled to fight off the stress that was creeping through his veins. Truthfully, he wanted some firewhisky. He thought maybe that would help calm his nerves a bit. He was all suited up, standing with his team on the Quidditch pitch, ready to start the match against Gryffindor, and the people in the stands were already cheering. He wasn’t sure that he could do this.

Miller felt like a failure on all fronts. He’d broken a boy he’d never intended to hurt, ruining himself in the process. Not only that but he’d be playing against Bryan today, and that added stress never helped.

“Miller,” Clarke said, squeezing his shoulder. He zoned out during her pep-talk. But she tipped her head to the side and Miller saw Monty standing there beside Jasper Jordan, Monty looking like he had something to say. “Five minutes, then we’re up in the air.”

Miller nodded and hurried off to Monty, all of his attention on the boy in the Ravenclaw scarf and none on his friend. “I want to make a bet,” Monty said as he approached. He took a few steps away from Jasper, leaving him hanging back while he strode toward Miller. Miller’s heart twisted in his chest. “Can we do that?”

“What’s the bet?” Miller asked. Because he had a feeling it wouldn’t be anything good.

“If you win today’s match,” Monty said, “then I pay for Butterbeer at Three Broomsticks.” Miller blinked, confused. Was Monty…? “But if you lose,” Monty carried on, “then you have to pay.”

Miller’s lips parted. “Monty…” he whispered.

“And we can talk,” Monty added. “And start over. Because I want to do that so badly, Nate.” Miller was nodding. He wasn’t sure when he started but now that he had, he couldn’t stop. Monty looked hopeful and Miller felt hopeful and like he could breathe again. Monty reached out, grabbing Miller’s hands, and the world was quiet. “I shouldn’t have cast that charm,” Monty said, but Miller shook his head. “I was upset and confused and—”

“It’s okay,” Miller shushed him. Monty was talking to him. Monty was holding his hands. “It’s okay. Really. I should’ve been honest with you.”

“Do you want this?” Monty asked.

“ _Desperately_ ,” Miller rasped. Somehow they ended up with Miller’s forehead resting against Monty’s, their noses brushing. “I—I have to go,” he said. “But I…”

“We’ll talk after,” Monty promised. His mouth curved into a smile. “Kiss for luck?”

Before Miller could respond, Jasper was there, yanking Monty backwards. “Sorry,” Jasper said, holding up his hands. “But I can’t have Monty giving you any extra luck.” He shrugged. “Gryffindor needs to crush you.” Monty winked at Miller as Jasper pulled him away, and Miller felt like he could fly without a broom.

* * *

It was a pretty quick game.

It was half because Miller played phenomenally and half because Clarke caught the Snitch before Bryan did. Slytherin won 90-20 and everything felt alright in the world. There was cheering, a promise that the team would get together at some point to share a drink, and a lot of laughter. It had been a while since Slytherin beat out Gryffindor and Miller felt unstoppable.

It didn’t take him all that long to find Monty, standing off to the side and letting the team celebrate. Miller strode up to him with purpose, not caring that so many people were around, and reached out for him at once.

“Can we—” Miller started. But Monty surged forward, cupping Miller’s cheeks and pulling him in for a kiss. They met in the middle, Miller’s relief so absurd that he couldn’t stop smiling. Their hands wandered and looked for ways to pull each other closer, the two of them both gushing with quiet persistent apologies over what had happened. When they broke apart it was because the Slytherin team had gotten close and the whooping and hollering had started to be directed at the two of them, rather than at their win. “Sorry,” Miller whispered, keeping his forehead against Monty’s. “They’re, um…”

“Happy for you,” Monty suggested. They were both grinning and Miller was content to stay like this for the rest of his life. “Congrats on the win,” he said. “Looks like I owe you a Butterbeer.”

Miller kissed him again, not having much to say but wanting to keep close. “Monty,” he exhaled. “I… thank you. For letting me explain, for…”

Monty kissed him that time, stopping him from carrying on. It was all they wanted to do.

“Hey Miller,” Clarke called as the team passed, and again he and Monty had to break apart. Miller looked toward his friend who was beaming. Clarke shook her head at him. “Looks like you won after all,” she said.

Monty slid his arm behind Miller’s back and turned to wave at the passing Slytherins. Clarke waved back while Murphy and Dax made smooching noises.

“They’re not so scary,” Monty said after they were gone.

Miller pulled him into his arms, holding him close. “Let’s go get that Butterbeer,” Miller murmured.

He’d certainly won, indeed.


End file.
